


conversations between

by asukesay



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6226378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asukesay/pseuds/asukesay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the corner of a coffee shop, 6 months after they broke up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	conversations between

The quiet between them is noticeable; Bokuto would say it was hedging on uncomfortable, and considering who's sitting in front of him, it probably _was._ Or was supposed to be - _should have been._

But there were a lot of 'should have been's in Bokuto's life, and the male purposefully not meeting his gaze across the table from him was probably the biggest one. Or, the only one he cared about, anyway.  

But he doesn't think things with Akaashi could be uncomfortable even if he tried to make them.  Call him a romantic, or whatever.  They've known each other for years - first as teammates, then as friends, then in an awkward limbo of unspoken feelings - skinny love, Kenma had called it knowingly - then finally after a terribly loud confession that was one part nerves and two parts repressed affection, as boyfriends.  There was a time not so long ago that Bokuto was sure he knew Akaashi better than the setter knew himself.  How could he ever feel awkward around someone he knew so intimately?; that knew _him_ so intimately? 

He thinks maybe the break up should have erased just a little bit of that comfortability; he thinks that 6 months he spent in minimal contact (not his choice), always-searching-in-a-crowd-always-ending-up-disappointed-not-really-knowing-why-he-got-his-hopes-up-in-the-first-place, hesitant to like Instagram posts, low-key stalking a tumblr that never updated, should have made them less familiar - if not strangers then at least awkward acquaintances.  

But Bokuto feels nothing but completely at ease sitting in the secluded back corner of some understaffed mom-and-pop cafe with a mocha latte and his ex boyfriend intentionally looking anywhere but him.

He thinks - has been thinking for half a year - that he should be mad at Akaashi. _He's_ not the one who wanted to break up, _he's_ not the one who gave some too-polite excuse of too much schoolwork and not enough time.  He's not the one who dodged his calls and left the parties early if the other happened to show up. He's not the one who still snapchatted him pictures of his Lit professor that looked like Nekoma's weird Russian wannabe-ace and still texted him reminders to take out his contacts when they were supposed to be needing space. 

Bokuto should be mad.  He should demand answers but feel too angry to actually listen to them. He should storm out of the coffee shop in a fit of rage because how _dare_ Akaashi try to come back into his life after breaking his heart?; because _why did he leave in the first place?_

But the reasons he should be mad and the reason he isn't mad are the same; it's Akaashi. 

Bokuto's vice captain.

Bokuto's number one weakness. 

He's not really one to hold onto those types of negative feelings anyway. And he's not saying that Akaashi could do no wrong but, yeah, it'd take a lot more than a weird breakup for Bokuto to remove Akaashi from the pedestal he's been standing on since the former Fukurodani setter stepped onto the court the first day of volleyball tryouts 5 years ago.

Akaashi has remained silent for a while now, apart from the polite greeting he gave when Bokuto sat down. Bokuto doesn't mind - it's Akaashi, after all. Unlike him, Akaashi liked to filter his thoughts before he spoke them. Bokuto _doesn't mind_ \- it gives him more time to look; to observe and drink in the delicate features of the dark haired boy that he thinks he were starting to blur in his memory. From the unraveled red scarf hanging loosely against his unbuttoned jacket (his new jacket, apparently; Bokuto would have remembered the navy blue pea coat if Akaashi had it before, especially with the way it contrasted so nicely with the pale glow of his skin), to his bangs, a little longer than Bokuto is used to seeing (but maybe that's just the length Akaashi liked his hair now), catching in his eyelashes each time he blinks, to the collarbones peeking out from the many layers he's got on to protect him from the cold winter winds blowing outside, fighting against the window with soft creaking of the wooden frame.

Bokuto almost smiles; Akaashi hated the cold.  ' _Poor circulation_ ,' he had told him their second and third years of high school, after an accidental brush of their fingertips on their walk to the train station in late autumn made Bokuto physically recoil - like he'd been burned. During skinny love phase, when Bokuto didn't know if it was how freezing the setters fingers felt against his, or the electric shock that they left in their memory. Bokuto had been so deep in his crush on Akaashi back then that giving his gloves to the dark haired boy seemed like second nature - even well into the winter months when his own hands started to sting with cold and long after Akaashi started bringing his own gloves.

Bokuto wonders if he's gotten taller.  Akaashi had already been sitting when Bokuto arrived 5 minutes late, shaking the snow from his hair because it wasn't snowing when he left his apartment and he was already too far away to turn back to get it. His hair is still damp, bangs hanging in front of his eyes as he studies Akaashi and wonders if wondering whether or not he got taller was curiosity or his subconscious wanting Akaashi standing beside him again.

Either way, it's distracting, and Bokuto justifies that the only way he's going to be, well, _not_ distracted, is to stare at Akaashi until all of his little curiosities are cleared up; until he has every feature memorized and cataloged in case he was in for another 6 months of barely seeing those ridiculously pretty eyes or the curve of his lips. 

He's still staring when Akaashi finally speaks after what seems like hours of silence and stillness. 

(In reality it's probably only been a few minutes, but Bokuto's been a bundle of nervous energy the moment he saw Akaashi's name pop up on his caller ID.)

"This is stupid." Akaashi says, still doesn't meet his eyes; he just stares down at the cup of coffee in front of him, index finger dragging a lone droplet around the rim.

And all Bokuto can do is stare - that's all he's been doing, all he wants to do for the rest of his life - because it's Akaashi and he's still in love with him. Has always been in love with him. And also maybe because that's definitely not what he had been expecting. Akaashi was usually carefully crafted sentences and articulated words.  Bokuto blinks. "What's stupid?"

This time Akaashi does look over at him, from underneath his sleepy lashes and wavy black bangs. He pushes them out of his face and they sweep neatly at a pretty angle. Is that how he wears his hair now? It's nice - Bokuto thinks it made him look sophisticated and every bit the adult that the 20 year old was. He's sad that he missed it - Akaashi must have looked good even at the awkward stages of growing his hair out. But at least his expression is still the same; perpetually apathetic and hopelessly beautiful. "This," Akaashi gestures to their table - to the careful distance between them - cocking his head towards Bokuto. "It feels like we're strangers. And we're not."

Bokuto wants to smile. "Aren't we?" He says, and in the back of his mind he's proud he's not crying yet. "It's been 6 months." He doesn't mention that it doesn't feel like that to him - that they could go a hundred six months of no contact and looking at Akaashi would still feel like coming home.  He doesn't want to make Akaashi feel worse, or invalidate his feelings. 

He also doesn't want Akaashi to think that he's weird for feeling that way - that he hasn't moved on.

(Which he hasn't, but Akaashi doesn't need to know that.)

A hint of a frown tugs at Akaashi's lips. "That's not that long. It shouldn't feel like this."

 _Maybe you just miss me_ , sits on Bokuto's tongue, but he swallows it down with a drink from his latte. He licks the foam from his upper lip. Instead he says, "You wanted space. What were you expecting?" 

"Clarity," Akaashi doesn't hesitate. "For things to make sense."

Bokuto raises an eyebrow. "And they don't?"

"Not really." He pushes his coffee to the side so he can fold his hands on top of the table. He picks at a cuticle idly - Bokuto wonders when he developed that habit, if it was even a habit at all or just a momentary distraction. "We dated for 4 years, Koutarou," He starts quietly, eyes flicking up from his hands to look at Bokuto. "We've been together so long, when I thought of myself, I always pictured you at my side." He says, "For someone like myself - someone who wants to be independent - I thought terminating our relationship would help me better understand who it is that I am without you."

Bokuto stares. That's why they broke up? He could have...he _would have_ given Akaashi time - all the time he needed. He tells him as much: "You could have said something instead of leaving me, you know, in the dark or whatever."

"The damage had already been done," Akaashi explains. "I didn't want to hurt you any more than I already had, and knowing how you can get, Koutarou, I knew you'd somehow blame yourself."

Well, he's not wrong.  Bokuto's been blaming himself for the past 6 months, going over their relationship with a fine toothed comb, desperate for any hint or any clue of what he did wrong.  He thinks he should be annoyed at Akaashi for not clarifying this earlier - a voice in the back of his head that sounds a bit too much like Kuroo telling him that the months of moping around could have _easily been avoided if his ex boyfriend had just explained this_.  But he's not annoyed - he doesn't think there's enough space in his body for him to feel anything other than the anxiousness bubbling over every inch of him.  "And?" Bokuto asks, drumming his fingers against the waxed wood of the table. Nerves are twisting a coil in his gut - tight and uncomfortable. "Do you know who you are?" 

Akaashi nods his head sharply, a wry smile twisting his mouth, worry lines creasing his forehead and Bokuto wants to smooth them away - kiss those lips until that smile is genuine. "I'm more or less the same." He says, and Bokuto ignores the twist of hurt that makes his stomach clench, pulling the coil tighter. "But I don't smile as much. I don't go outside as much. I think about you all of the time and it _hurts_. I spend all of my free time studying and I fall asleep in the library more often than not -"

Bokuto is still reeling from the ' _I think about you all the time_ ,' be he can't help the noise of disapproval that escapes from his mouth. "Keiji, I've told you that's bad for your back -"

Akaashi carries on like he hadn't heard him, and Bokuto doesn't mind; not when this is the most he's heard from Akaashi in months. "Who I am without you it's...it's not me.  Or it _is_ me, and I can live with that if I have to. But I don't _want_ to." Akaashi bites the inside of his cheek, hesitating, like he's trying to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. He inhales deeply through his nose, picking up his coffee and taking a drink. Bokuto tries not to notice the way his adams apple bobs underneath the taut skin of his throat when he swallows.

He fails.

Akaashi sets his cup back down forcefully - hard enough to send coffee spilling over the rim, dripping down the sides and pooling around the bottom edge.

Bokuto doesn't like the hopefulness twisting at his gut, sending his heart and what feels like a thousand butterflies climbing up his throat. Because yeah, Bokuto is kind of an idiot, and he interprets things wrong a lot, but Akaashi's tone of voice and the look in his eyes isn't leaving much open for interpretation, but Bokuto wouldn't be surprised if he's just twisting Akaashi's words to be something he wants to hear. 

He doesn't think he'll be able to handle it if he's wrong. 

(And if he is, at the very least he'll be leaving the coffee shop crying.)

Akaashi continues after he's composed himself. "I don't want to live like that." he repeats, dark eyes staring into Bokuto's. "If you've moved on, I can, but if you still have feelings for me, I'd appreciate if you took some time and thought about continuing our relationship."

The coil snaps, the nerves and the raw emotion erupting inside of his being like an explosion, and suddenly there is too much to focus on and his mind is all over the place, words and thoughts bouncing off the sides of his head too fast for him to grasp but it's alright because it's all basically the same it its core:  Akaashi wants him back. Akaashi wants him _back_. 

"Okay," Bokuto says quickly, a chirp of a word that's too high pitched and tight to sound natural, and finally he takes a sip of his mocha latte he's been neglecting, if only to occupy his mouth from saying something embarrassing. It's not hot, anymore, but Bokuto doesn't mind. Not really.

Akaashi stares at him, eyebrows furrowed like he can't quite believe what he's hearing. "Okay?" He echoes, and it comes out as more of a question.

Bokuto sets down his cup, hands shaking, jittery. He beams at the boy across from him. "Okay."

Akaashi looks absolutely dumbfounded, and Bokuto takes immense pride in knowing that the always cool, meticulously stoic Akaashi Keiji is _speechless_. "W-we..." Akaashi stammers. "We can take it slow. As slow as you'd like." He says. "I know what I did to you was unfair, and any resentment you feel is completely justified -"

"Oh Keiji," Bokuto sighs quickly, not out of exasperation but out of waiting and wanting for far too long. "Just get over here and kiss me already."

He doesn't know what he's expecting. Akaashi wasn't really one for PDA, not in high school and not in university, but Bokuto watches him rise from his seat, chair scraping against the tile floor when he stands, hands braced on the table as he leans over it.  

Once he's close enough to feel his nervous breath puffing against Bokuto's lips, Bokuto's control snaps, and he's angling his head and pressing a hard loss against Akaashi's mouth before he can stop himself.

He wants to sing he's so happy - even though Bokuto's lips are chapped and dry and his neck is cramped from tilting his head up and his hair is still wet and hanging in his face, it's is the single greatest kiss of his life.  Bokuto doubts there will ever be a kiss to top it, and unless it's Akaashi, he doesn't want anyone else to even think of trying. He will never want someone as much as he wants Akaashi - he doubts he'll ever let anyone besides the dark haired boy get close enough to compete.

He doesn't know how long they kiss, only that it ends much to quickly when Akaashi pulls away.  Bokuto's hand, content to keep pinching his thigh in case this was a dream, is lighting quick to press against Akaashi's jaw.  

"Not so fast." Bokuto says, cupping the smooth curve of Akaashi's cheek, keeping him right where he wants him which is only centimeters apart and still not close enough. "You've got six months to make up for." 

Akaashi smiles, familiar and beautiful and so _Akaashi_ it makes Bokuto's heart stutter in his chest. He hopes Akaashi can feel it. He watches that smile until it disappears out of his line of sight and instead feels it against his own. 

"Gladly."

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this at 3am so I apologize for any and all mistakes! I'm determined to finish all of my WIPs this year. But we all know that's probably not going to happen. Still, I can dream. Find this on my tumblr: daisuga-s.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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